


Trick or Treat 2017

by EzzyDean



Series: Trick or Treats [1]
Category: Free!, Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 18:18:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 13,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13487058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzzyDean/pseuds/EzzyDean
Summary: A collection of various (many of them rare) ship prompts written in the spirit of Halloween (aka Ezzy's 2017 trick or treat prompt fills)





	1. NoyaMatsu Treat1

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of posting chronologically like I did last year and indicating the connected fics, this year I'm just posting them together. In other words I'm preeeetty sure all the tricks this year were connected so I'm posting all the treats first (unconnected unless indicated otherwise) and then I'll post all the tricks.

“Sweater weather,” Noya exclaims gleefully as he shakes Issei awake.  “Sweater.  Weather.”

“I heard you the first seven times, Noya,” Issei grumbles.  Then he buries his head back under his pillow with a quiet groan when the bed dips with Noya’s weight.  Noya starts dragging the blankets off and Issei hisses at the rush of cold air against his sleep warmed skin.  “Ugh you’re a little demon.”

Noya’s laugh doesn’t quite cover the sound of the sheets thumping to the floor and Issei gives up on trying to go back to sleep.

 

 

“So what’s on the agenda today,” he asks Noya.  It’s grumbled around his toothbrush so it’s only Noya’s years of practice at understanding ‘Mattsun-mumbles’ that allows him to answer.  It’s a little muffled, Issei assumes Noya’s digging through the closet, but he had years of practice at “Noya-mutters” so he understands him rather clearly.

“We’re meeting Oikawa and Hinata and them all downtown to hit the shops for costumes and party supplies around one.  So I figured we’d do something for a late breakfast, maybe that little shop down the block that Hanamaki always wants to visit when he stops by, and then just kind of walk around a bit?  Maybe talk a walk over to the park?”

Noya’s voice has a hopeful lilt to it, even muffled in the closet, that makes Issei grin.

“Is this like a date or something?”

Noya snickers and appears in the doorway.

“Yes, Issei.  I’m asking you on a date.”

“Oh gee.  I don’t know.”  Issei fans his face and blinks coyly at Noya.  “A cute boy asking me on a date?  Whatever shall I do?”

“Start with getting dressed,” Noya says with a laugh, “and we’ll go from there.”

Issei glances down at his boxers and ragged tank top and shrugs.

 

 

He hadn’t noticed it when Noya had propped his hip on the bathroom door frame to tease him.  But when he finally gives up searching the closet and settles for grabbing his second favorite sweater and heads for the kitchen he notices it.  The sleeves of Noya’s sweater are far too long and the hem of it hits closer to his thigh than his waist.

“You know that’s my favorite sweater, Nishinoya.”

“Yeah well it’s my favorite sweater too, Matsukawa.”

“How is my sweater, the one that I bought, for myself, that fits me properly, somehow your favorite sweater?”

Noya shrugs and Issei has the urge to reach out and tug the collar of the sweater a little higher back towards Noya’s neck.  At least the little demon is wearing a t-shirt under it this time.  Last time he stole the sweater Issei had been distracted by Noya’s collarbone the entire time and had managed to run straight into a display of crackers at the grocery store.

“Sweater weather means any sweater in this house is fair game.  Even if it doesn’t belong to either of us.  I will wear it.  Even if it Suga’s I’ll wear it.  Or even one of Oikawa’s monstrosities.  Sweater weather is serious, Issei.”

“I know.  I know.”  He pulls Noya in by the sweater and leans down for a kiss.  “Now shall we head out?  I apparently have a date with a cute boy.  Even if he steals my clothes.”

Noya bounces up on the balls of his feet as Issei pulls away and plants a kiss on Issei’s cheek.

“You love me stealing your clothes.”

Issei shakes his head as Noya heads out of the kitchen.

“I do love you.”  Issei sighs softly.  “Even if you’re a demonic little thief.”

* * *

_prompt: sweater weather_


	2. TanaKen Treat2

Ryuu is warm despite the cool night air surrounding him.  He’s not sure if it’s from the fire crackling a few feet away, whatever was in the apple cider his sister has been giving him all night, or just the enjoyment of being with his friends tonight.  He hears Noya’s bright laughter from the other side of the fire and Kuroo’s braying laughter right beside it, hears Suga scolding someone about losing their scarf earlier that day, hears Saeko cackling nearby while what sounds like Daichi attempts to convince her to “hand over the bottle and stop spiking the drinks for crying out loud most of them are minors.”  She’s no doubt holding it high above her head while Daichi - he’s sure it’s Daichi now, he recognizes the disappointed tone of voice - tries to grab it from her while not face planting into her chest.

He leans back, hands propped behind him, and stares up at the stars.  They’re so clear out here.  He’s a little bit in awe of them.

A shadow blots out his view and he has to blink a few times for the blot to materialize into something recognizable: Kenma leaning over him and peering down at him.

“Glad you finally made it back,” Ryuu says.  “I was starting to get worried.”

“No you weren’t.  You’ve barely noticed I was gone.”

Ryuu pouts up at him but it’s no match for Kenma’s bored stare and he gives in with a shrug.

“I would have before much longer.  But I was distracted listening to everything.”

Kenma hums and glances around the fire.  After a moment he drops onto Ryuu’s lap.  Ryuu groans but shifts so that Kenma’s weight is more comfortable and, when Kenma seems content to just watch the fire and not talk, Ryuu goes back to leaning back on his hands and staring up at the stars.

It seems like ages before Kenma shifts and draws Ryuu’s attention back to him.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your hoodie,” he says when Ryuu makes a questioning noise at him.

“Well.  It was kind of my fault yours got soaked.”

“Still.  You didn’t have to give yours up.  So.  Thank you.”

Ryuu laughs and sits up so he can prop his chin on Kenma’s shoulder.  “You’re welcome,” he says as he stares into the fire.

It really is a great night.

 

* * *

_prompt: bonfire_


	3. FutaHaba Treat3

“You,” Shigeru says as he struggles to roll off his stomach.  “Did not,” he grumbles as his hands hit a damp patch and slide out from under him.  “Just,” he growls when he hears a peal of laughter clearer than a bell somewhere behind him.  “Do that.”

“Well considering I am staring at you, face down in a pile of leaves.  I think I just did.”

Shigeru finally manages to roll onto his back and in some sort of crab walk motion that has Kenji doubled over in laughter with tears forming pushes himself out of the slightly damp leaf pile.  Cleaning up Kenji’s grandparent’s yard was not how he had planned on spending his rare free Saturday afternoon.  Even when Kenji had called and suggested that Shigeru meet him at the cafe they liked to frequent when Shigeru was in town, Shigeru had not planned on anything more than maybe catching up with Kenji.  It was a reasonable expectation; its been about a year since they’ve seen each other face to face after all.

But he should have remembered this was Kenji.

The giant pain in his ass.

The brat who gave him pleading puppy eyes and asked him to come along and keep him company when he got a call from his grandmother about coming over and doing some work.

The person who he had a hard time saying no to.  Basically ever.  (Which is, admittedly, part of the reason Shigeru has kind of sort of been avoiding the other man for almost a year.  If he had to listen to Kentarou sigh at him one more time because Shigeru didn’t work up the courage to ask Kenji out he was going to smother Kentarou in his sleep okay.)

He’s picking damp leaves out of his hair and wondering if there’s one down the back of his shirt because it itches back there when Kenji stops laughing and saunters over.

“I swear I should throw you in there on principle.”

“Aw, c’mon Shigeru.”  Kenji gives him that damn pleading look that would probably convince Shigeru to forgive him for chopping off Shigeru’s arm or something.

There are leaves in his hair - he can feel them stuck in there - and there’s a good chance that Kenji’s grandmother is watching from the house but Shigeru suddenly can’t help himself anymore.  He grabs the front of Kenji’s sweater and yanks him forward.  He takes glee in the fact that Kenji looks panicked until he realizes that Shigeru is just pulling him closer and not yanking him into the leaf pile.  
  
“Hey, Kenji,” he says softly as he looks up into Kenji’s surprised eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Finally,” Kenji says with a laugh.  “I’ve only been waiting for you to ask since forever.”

It’s sweet when their lips meet, the cherry of Kenji’s lip balm and the lingering taste of the hot cocoa Shigeru had been drinking make it one of Shigeru’s favorite kisses ever.  Or it just might be the fact that he’s finally kissing Kenji that’s making it a favorite.  Kenji murmurs something against his lips about leaves in his hair when he brings his hand up and cups the back of Shigeru’s head.

Shigeru tangles his fingers in Kenji’s sweater and tugs him a little until they’re turned around and Kenji’s back is to the pile of leaves.

His only regret is that he has to break the kiss in order to send Kenji flailing backwards into the leaves.

* * *

_prompt: leaf piles_


	4. AsaHaru Treat4

Asahi watches Haru.  Watches the way his eyes narrow and his head tilts - the motions even more captivating to Asahi thanks to the smattering of jeweled stickers around Haru’s eyes and the floppy yet somewhat graceful witch’s hat on his head - and, for a moment, debates stepping in.  But Haru can take care of himself.  Which he proves less than a minute later when he “accidentally” shoves the handle of his broomstick into the gut of the man who had been talking to him before he turns and makes his way back through the crowd to Asahi’s side.

“That wasn’t very nice of you Haru,” Asahi scolds playfully when Haru reaches him.  Haru responds with a bland look.

“He wanted to ride my broomstick,” Haru says with a shrug, “so I gave it to him.”

Suga nearly chokes on his drink.  Which has Nagisa making a sympathetic noise and patting him on the back while Haru just looks pleased with himself.  Asahi watches them warily for a moment before turning his attention back to Haru; he still wasn’t entirely sure introducing Suga to someone who Haru had described as ‘a walking talking sunshine sugar high of a devil’s child’ was a good idea.  But Haru had insisted that Nagisa come with.  Or Nagisa had insisted he come with.  Asahi still isn’t entirely sure and, honestly, he felt more secure not asking for clarification.

“Haru,” he starts, intending on maybe giving a tiny lecture about not hitting random people who are hitting on you just because you don’t like it.  Even if he thinks it’s kind of creepy to hit on people who are clearly not interested and is maybe a little impressed by Haru’s bluntness.

Haru smiles at him and rocks up a little to press a kiss to Asahi’s cheek and he promptly loses whatever train of thought he had when he hears Haru murmur something about Asahi being the only one who gets to ride him.

“Yes, Asahi?” he prompts when Asahi blinks down at him.

“I think he broke Asahi,” Suga says gleefully.  Asahi glances over long enough to realize that Nagisa is now perched on Suga’s lap watching Haru and himself with open interest.  He returns his gaze to Haru.  It seems safer that way.  Which really isn’t saying all that much if he’s being honest.

“Never mind,” Asahi finally says.  “You make a stunning witch is all.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

_prompt: witches_


	5. AsaNoya Treat5

Now, Asahi can’t say that he knows every detail of every item of clothing Noya owns.  Especially considering the fact that Noya shares clothes like many kids share crayons: freely and with increasing enthusiasm the longer the line of ownership before he gets it.  But Asahi also knows that while some of Noya’s clothes do, unfortunately, make noise (he’ll never understand what made Hinata buy matching caroling sweaters that sang the carols for you but he did and the proof is in Noya’s closet) Noya does not have possession of an article of clothing that makes little sad mewling noises.  While wriggling.

Noya squirms under Asahi’s questioning look and curls over his stomach.  Asahi would be worried he has a stomachache if not for the fact that he hid all the candy last night and Noya has been helping out at Coach’s shop all afternoon.

“Noya,” he says quietly.  Noya’s face scrunches and he determinedly looks anywhere but Asahi’s face.  “Nishinoya.”  He stills but still refuses to meet Asahi’s gaze.  “Yuu,” he finally tries, little mewling cries filling the room.  Noya’s eyes snap up to meet his and he collapses like a kite that just lost all it’s wind.

“It was the last one and no one wanted it and we were afraid that with Halloween coming up something bad might happen to it and you know Take-chan is allergic so Coach couldn’t keep her and I just-”

“Yuu.”  Asahi holds his hands out expectantly and watches as Noya struggles with the giant pocket in his hoodie.

A minute later his hands are filled with a fuzzy black kitten that’s blinking up at him in confusion at the sudden change of location.  It’s shaking a little and Asahi cups it against his chest.  He gives Noya a stern look even though he already knows they’re keeping the kitten.  There’s no way he could have looked into her pale yellow eyes and not fallen in love with the kitten.

“Her name is Garlic and I love her and I know we’ve been talking about a pet and I should have asked before I agreed to take her but-”

“Yuu,” Asahi says again, softly so he doesn’t startle the kitten or his boyfriend.

“Sorry.  I just.  I couldn’t leave her behind.”

Noya looks so stricken as he stares at Asahi’s chest that Asahi can’t do anything but shift the kitten into one hand so he can hold the other out towards Noya.  Noya’s eyes light up and he throws himself against Asahi.

“Apology accepted,” Asahi says eventually.  “But you’re doing equal kitty litter duty.”

 

* * *

_prompt: black cats_


	6. AkaKen Treat6

Kenma stared down at the table, face a mix of disgust and betrayal.  

“What is that?”

Keiji glanced over his shoulder to see what Kenma was referring to.

“Oh.”  He shrugged and turned back to putting away groceries.  “You were saying something about pie.  There was a great deal on it at the bakery.  There’s also some cookies from there in the box on the counter.”

Kenma spared the box a flicker of interest.

“It looks spongy.”

Keiji looked at the pie again.  “It looks normal to me.”

“I don’t like it.”

Keiji sighed as Kenma turned on his heel and left the kitchen.  No one ever said dating Kenma was going to be simple, he reminded himself.

—

Kenma’s eyes flickered over the decorations in the shop windows they passed, gaze bored and distant.

“So much orange and brown and yellow,” he grumbled, burying his face into his scarf when a gust of wind blew past them.

“Well it is that time of the year.”

The coffee shop was a warm haven from the brisk day and Keiji listened patiently as the girl behind the counter rattled off the new specials.  Kenma’s face scrunched more and more with each special until he finally grunted something and wandered away.  Keiji ordered their usual drinks and waited near the counter.  The shop was decorated with fake leaves and tiny pumpkins and little paper bats and ghosts that fluttered in the warm breeze from the heater.

Kenma wasn’t in much better of a mood when Keiji brought over their drinks.  But it wasn’t any worse either.

—

“Pumpkins,” Kenma hissed across the table at Kuroo.  “Why is it always pumpkin everything everywhere?”  Keiji let out a soft sound of realization as Kenma’s sour mood suddenly made sense.  “Pumpkin coffee.  Pumpkin cappuccino.  Pumpkin pie.  Pumpkin cookies.  Pumpkin spice.  Pumpkin decorations.  Pumpkin everything.”

Keiji leaned away from Kenma as he continued naming all the pumpkin things he’d seen - hissing them at Kuroo while Kuroo nodded sympathetically - and asked Hinata, “Do I want to know what pumpkins did to offend him so badly?”

Hinata turned to him with wide eyes and a face so pale that Keiji was afraid he would pass out.

“You never heard about the Great Pumpkin Debacle of 2007?”  Keiji shook his head and Hinata gulped.  “Just… trust me.  Kenma has his reasons.  I don’t understand them.  But he has them.”

—

Kenma growled and threw his cookie at Keiji’s plate.

“I don’t want pumpkin tea or coffee or a pumpkin spiced latte.  I don’t want pumpkin bread or oatmeal or pumpkin scented candles.  I don’t want pumpkin in my life, Keiji.  It’s banned from my apartment as of today.”

Keiji laughed softly as he slid the box of pumpkin cookies as far away from Kenma as possible.  Then he slid another box out from behind the pile of bags on the counter and handed it over to Kenma with a fork.

“That’s why I brought you an apple pie.  And my mother’s chocolate chip cookies.”

Kenma’s face lit up and he bumped his head against Keiji’s shoulder with a happy hum.

“You’re the best.”

 

* * *

_prompt: pumpkin everything_


	7. HanaIwa Treat7

Takahiro shudders and scoots closer to Hajime.  Hajime rolls his eyes but raises his arm up for Takahiro to slip under and wrap his arms around Hajime’s chest and bury his face in Hajime’s neck.  Something on screen screams and crashes and Takahiro whines and nuzzles even closer.

They’ve been doing this for years now.  Every fall when the world starts to fill with pumpkins and ghosts and little things that go bump in the night, and Tooru and Issei get pulled into family events and competitions and tournaments, that’s when Hajime and Takahiro break out the scary movies and junk food and piles of blankets for Hajime’s worn couch.  To be honest, Hajime doesn’t know why they bother with scary movies and he tells Takahiro as much.

“I mean, you’re not even scared.”  Takahiro goes still as some sort of bloody ritual is taking place in the background.  Hajime stares at the screen as fog presses against an old house on a hill, a single light on high in the attic, and barely sees it.  He’s taking a risk, calling Takahiro out like this.  He knows it.  But it’s a little silly that this only happens a few times a year.  They watch questionable movies.  Sometimes they get a little drunk, sometimes they don’t.  They eat too much candy and pizza and ice cream and sweet bread.  They curl together under blankets.  They wake up the next morning with stiff necks and numb legs from falling asleep on the couch.  And then they part ways and do it again a few months later.  “You just want to cuddle with me.”

They’ve known each other long enough that Hajime can tell Takahiro is blushing by the way he’s scrunching his nose against Hajime’s neck.  Takahiro can also, hopefully, realize how much Hajime doesn’t mind what they’re doing by the way his arm is still loose over Takahiro’s shoulder and his breaths are steady.

“So what if I do?”

“Then I would say maybe we should make this more of a weekly thing than a once every three or four months thing.”

Takahiro pulls away from Hajime’s neck and gives him a speculative look.  “Are you asking me on a date, Hajime?”

“I think I am, Takahiro.”

“I accept.  On the condition I am allowed to wear my most hideous ratty sweatpants and sweatshirt.”

Hajime pulls Takahiro close again and kisses his forehead.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

* * *

_prompt: cuddles and scary movies_


	8. YakuLev Treat8

Morisuke unlocks the apartment door, takes one step inside, and turns right back around to leave.  There’s a pyramid of scented candles sitting on the table just inside the door, another pyramid on the floor next to it, and he can spot a bunch sitting on the floor in the hallway.  He wants to make a swift exit and hide in an apartment that doesn’t smell like a pumpkin pie inside a mug of apple cider inside a pumpkin spice latte sprinkled with cinnamon and ginger and clove - and once upon a time he never knew each of those individual scents let alone what they smelled like all at once.  Sometimes he misses the way his apartment smelled like generic dish soap and lemony fresh toilet bowl cleaner.

Then he let Lev move in.

Now every fall and winter every single flat surface has at least one candle on it.  Most have no less than three.  There are no less than four candles lit at any waking moment.

His apartment is a fire hazard.  Especially with Lev in the middle of it all.

He’s got one foot back out the door when a hand snakes out from the hall closet and closes around his arm.  He doesn’t yelp in surprise and punch Lev for scaring him and even if he does, well, Lev totally deserves it.

“Welcome home,” Lev sing songs as they bury their face in Morisuke’s hair and take a deep breath.  “You smell like fall!”

“The apartment smells like fall.  I smell like-” Yaku sniffs his sweater and grimaces, “-burnt leaves and stale popcorn.”

“Smells like fall to me!”  Lev takes another deep breath and wraps their arms around Morisuke as tight as they can.  “You up for baking pies today or do you just want to do soup and a movie marathon?”

Morisuke freezes in the middle of trying - not very hard - to get free of Lev’s grasp and groans.

“I forgot.  That’s this weekend isn’t it?”

Lev hums and unwinds Morisuke’s scarf and helps him out of his sweater.  “Yeah but I can always make them tomorrow while you’re at work if you just want to relax tonight.  And I never told Kuroo for sure how many we were bringing for the sale so as long as we have at least three I think we’re good.”

Morisuke pulls Lev down by the collar of their t-shirt and gives them a quick kiss.  “Let me get cleaned up and decide?”

The smile he gets in return is, as always, a radiant thing that warms him to his core.  “Of course!”

 

* * *

_prompt: scented candles_


	9. KageOi Treat9

There’s a heavy breeze outside that’s throwing leaves and little sticks and dust against the windows.  It sounds a little like tiny demons scrabbling to get inside and Tooru shivers before burrowing deeper into his blankets.  Tobio looks over at him questioningly but he shakes his head.

“I’m good,” he says softly, voice still a bit raw from his cold.  The smile Tobio quirks at him is soft and sweet and Tooru smiles back.  He still feels like shit, all rough voice and stuffy nose and foggy head, but there’s nowhere he’d rather be right now than here: curled up together reading in a pile of warm blankets on a cool fall day.

Tobio’s been reading some ‘true haunting’ type of thing and he looks so enthralled by it that Tooru just sits and watches for a minute.  The way his brow furrows and his eyes narrow in concentration will never cease to send a spark of fondness through Tooru.  He pulls the blanket around his shoulders tighter and hunkers back down with his own book of scary stories.  

It’s quiet save for the wind throwing tiny things at the window and the sounds of pages turning.  They both get a little lost in their reading haze, not even noticing when Tooru’s tea is gone or when the afternoon sun starts rapidly disappearing.  They don’t even notice their door opening or the quiet sounds of guests.  At least not until a black cat comes flying into the room and jumps straight at Tobio’s lap.

Tooru looks up just in time to see it all unfold and he wishes he could capture it on video just to watch it in slow motion someday.  A black blur of fur flies at Tobio’s lap.  Tobio looks up.  His eyes go wide and his mouth opens.  There may or may not be a surprised yelp and a lurch towards Tooru’s blanketed form like he can protect Tobio.  There is definitely a flail and then Tobio is falling off the couch and onto the floor in a heap of blankets with a black cat perched delicately on what Tooru thinks is the lump of Tobio’s shoulder.

Asahi pokes his head in with an apology on his lips that Tooru simply waves away with a smile.  He’s too busy trying to keep from laughing and coughing to do anything else right now.  Plus Noya comes in a moment later with a bag of warm takeout and new mugs of tea so, really, there’s nothing to apologize for.  Even Tobio mutters as much when he finally untangles himself from the blankets and manages to sit up, somehow graceful even with a cat on his lap and Noya attempting to shove a container of takeout in his face.

All in all, Tooru thinks as he leans against Asahi’s shoulder and pokes at Tobio’s side until he shares his portion of takeout, its a good day.

 

* * *

_prompt: reading horror stories under blankets_


	10. AsaDaiSugaYui Treat10

Daichi stops with the bathroom door cracked open.

“There is a lot of me on display with this costume,” he warns, face and voice textbook definition of bemused.

Yui tugs at the wool cap on her head and props herself in the bedroom doorway, directly across from the bathroom.  She crosses her arms over her chest and makes a ‘well get on with it’ noise.  Asahi adjusts the leaf crown braided into his hair - bright orange and yellow and red leaves seem to grow out of his hair - and steps up behind her.  His tree costume was the easiest one for them to put together in the end.

“Come on,” Asahi teases.  “Suga’s wearing a mini-dress with a fuzzy tail and a giant nut practically glued to his crotch.”

“It’s an acorn and it’s a bag and you are in so much trouble tonight, Asahi,” Suga shoots back from the second bedroom.  He leans out the door to glare at Asahi and then scurries down the hall with glee when he realizes that Daichi hasn’t done his reveal yet.  The gray mini-dress hugs Suga’s hips and between that and the knee high boots it’s almost enough to distract from the fuzzy s-shaped tail and furry-eared hood.

“I’m just saying,” Daichi is grumbling as Suga squeezes into the doorway next to Yui, “I don’t understand why every year we’re the one in the short shorts and mini dresses.”

“Hey I like my mini-dress,” Suga protests.

“Women’s costumes are ridiculous and sexist and nothing but scraps of fabric made to display asses and cleavage with the barest hint of a costume design.”  Yui rolls her eyes and shakes her head.  “And putting them on a guy is a perfect way to show it.”

“And here I just thought it was an excuse to get Daichi in short shorts and a crop top,” Asahi murmurs.

“Well it’s that too,” Yui agrees.  “Now come on Daichi.  Get your lumberjack butt out here.”

Daichi swings the door open and they all sound like they’ve just been punched.  The dark blue shorts barely cover his hips and butt and leave very little to imagination.  The suspenders are pointless but they do manage to drag one’s attention from the dip of Daichi’s hip bone up across his stomach and abs to the little red plaid crop top tied in a knot in the center of his chest.  He reaches up and tugs a dark wool cap onto his head and huffs when they all keep staring at him.

Yui’s costume matches his almost exactly except for the fact that hers is a normal plaid shirt tucked into a pair of jeans.

—

“If you’ll excuse me,” Suga says with a wink, “I have to go climb my boyfriend.”

“Don’t you mean find?”

“Nope.  I know exactly where he is.”  Suga takes a step away and then leans back in and whispers loudly.  “He has my nuts after all.  Gotta keep an eye on him.”

Kuroo chokes on the drink of punch he had just taken and Suga laughs wickedly as he saunters out of the room to the sound of Kuroo’s coughing and Tanaka reminding him to breathe.

Suga finds them exactly where he expects to in Tanaka’s living room and he stifles a laugh when he sidles up to Asahi’s side and hears Yui talking to Iwaizumi about taking Asahi down to his roots.  Iwaizumi looks like he knows exactly what Yui is doing and saying and hinting at but he’s indulging her pretending to be innocent anyways.  He doesn’t stifle his laugh at all when Daichi starts grumbling from Iwaizumi’s other side about why he has to have the fake plastic axe while Yui gets to have the real - albeit very dull - thing.

“Oh Daichi, sweetie,” Yui purrs, “you have to know how to handle wood before you can just play with the big kid toys.”

“Some days I regret knowing any of you,” Asahi mutters.  Yui is patting his arm, caressing the limb as she winks at Daichi.  “When you want to be perverted I’m a big, strong, thick tree.  Any other time tonight I’m a silly wood nymph.”

—

Asahi could be upset that a good half of their jokes tonight had been at his expense.  But it’s hard to stay mad with Suga’s arms wrapped around his neck and Suga’s breath warm on his cheek as Asahi carries him home; Suga’s heeled boots make him look amazing but they kill his feet.  It’s also hard to stay mad, Asahi decides, when he gets to walk behind Daichi in those short shorts and watch the way his muscles work when he suddenly scoops Yui up and tosses her over his shoulder, laughing loudly as she shouts in surprise.

They may all be a little ridiculous but he wouldn’t have them any other way.

 

* * *

 

_prompt: costumes_


	11. AsaSuga Treat11

“I, uh, don’t think that’s the proper use for an icing pipette.”

Suga pauses in the process of squeezing another glob of frosting directly into his mouth and glares at Asahi.

“I don’t think I asked for your opinion.”

Asahi glances down at the trays of cookies and cupcakes yet to be frosted and debates their chances.  They could take the icing pipette from Suga and risk losing a finger or hand in the process.  Or they could just make a new batch of icing.  It was just one of the cheap icing bags after all.  Suga wasn’t even using one of the fancy tips Asahi had for frosting.

Asahi sighs and grabs a clean bowl.

“You know.  If you’re so worried about the party you could always-”

“The party is happening when I said it was.  Everyone is already coming.  The decorations and costumes are all already picked out.  We’re making the cookies and cupcakes now.”

Asahi hums softly and finishes get the icing whipped up, separating a few bowls for different colors and setting everything up neatly before they turn to Suga and open their arms.  Suga drops his icing bag on the counter and practically launches himself into Asahi’s embrace.

“I just want everything to be perfect,” he whispers into Asahi’s sweater like it’s a secret that could undo him.  “This is our first party here and I want our neighbors not to hate us here and it’s, well you know what it is.”

“It’s Halloween,” Asahi says softly.  They run their fingers through Suga’s hair.  “Believe me.  I know.  I also know that no one here is like they were back there.  Everyone here is nice.  Even the assholes are decent enough people.  They’re not… It’s not going to be the same way here.  I promise.”

Suga takes a shuddering breath and after a few minutes in Asahi’s warm arms he nods his head.  He pulls back enough to prop his chin on Asahi’s chest and look up at them.

“How did I get lucky enough to snag you?”

Asahi smiles down at Suga.  “Magic,” they say airily.  “And sugar cookies cut into the shape of leaves with those little orange sugary sprinkles on them.  You know I can’t resist those.”

 

* * *

_prompt: baking halloween treats_


	12. SouHaru Treat12

“This needs more ghosts and bats.”

“This is a restaurant.”

“I stand by my critique.”

“I don’t remember asking your opinion.”

“I don’t remember that ever stopping me before.”

“I don’t remember coming here to watch you two flirt.”

Sousuke and Haru turn as one to give Nagisa matching exasperated looks.

“You certainly don’t come here to be a paying customer,” Sousuke snaps.  He throws a leaf patterned towel at Nagisa’s face.  Nagisa bats it away with a grin.

“Nah.  I come here for the delightful conversations with Tsukishima and Futakuchi.”  He gestures towards the kitchen and Sousuke frowns.

“So that’s who keeps pinching my butt when I have to bend over to take stuff out of the oven?”

Nagisa giggles.

Sousuke turns and jabs his finger at Haru’s face.  “This is exactly why my restaurant does not need anymore ghosts.”

Haru waits until Sousuke stomps back to the kitchen and his grumbling is muffled.  Then he leans against the counter and slides a plate of cookies in front of Nagisa.

Nagisa chews on a cookie while Haru carefully arranges mini pumpkins that fit in his palm on random surfaces.  There’s pumpkins on the counters, the shelves, the napkin dispenser, the stack of coffee cups.  He’s pulling three out of nothingness, air heavy with the scent of spices and baked sugar, when the door swings open with a clatter.

“Hello?”  A friendly voice calls out and Nagisa spins on his stool to watch a large black cat poke it’s head inside.

“Come in,” Haru replies softly, distracted by the sudden appearance of four more pumpkins, roughly the size of a softball, that he hurries to catch before they can hit the floor.

A figure with their hood pulled up and large round sunglasses to block the sun slips in next to the cat and Nagisa’s gaze flickers to Haru, triumphant grin on his face.

“Hey Haru.  He never said no to the bats.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This treat is connected to the next one in that it is in the same au but each can be read separately.


	13. SeiMako Treat13 (12b)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This treat is connected to the previous one in that it is in the same au but each can be read separately.

“You really want to go Stardust today?”

Makoto smiles at Seijuurou and nods.

“I promised Haru I’d drop off some stuff for him and I won’t have time to run all the way to his apartment today after he gets off work.”

Seijuurou toys with the calendar page floating open in front of him and raises a brow at Makoto.

“Technically I’m booked most of the day but Momo is free to go with you.”

Makoto’s smile morphs into a pout.  The papers on Seijuurou’s desk rustle with unseen wind.  Seijuurou sighs and places paperweights on them.  The wind rustles more, Makoto’s pout turns into a full frown, the paperweights rattle.

“Oh stop already,” Momo says.  He’s propped himself in the doorway with a grin.  “Whatever it is I’ll do it.  He only gets this way when you involve me,” he adds when Seijuurou glares at him.

It’s only when everything in the room stills that Seijuurou even realizes it was all moving.  Makoto spins with a pleased laugh and leaves, pressing a kiss to Momo’s cheek as he passes him.

“See this is why Momo’s my favorite,” he calls out, voice echoing oddly down the hallway.

Seijuurou rolls his eyes and gestures Momo over.  He should know better by now than to try to say no to Makoto.

—

The restaurant is quiet today.  Seijuurou can sense Futakuchi and Tsukishima somewhere and Nagisa is suspiciously absent so he’s assuming they’re in the back behaving today.  Or at least for the moment.  Which is good because he’d hate to have to make good on his threat to exorcise them to the point where no one can bring them back.  So long as they don’t bother or scare Makoto they can stay so far as he’s concerned.

There’s a new figure, well two to be exact, in the corner booth of the restaurant furthest from the door.  A large black cat eyes him for a moment, eyes Makoto for longer, and then flops dramatically across the table.

“That’s unsanitary,” he notes.  No one seems to hear him - Makoto is busy chatting with Haru and handing over a bagful of stuff that Seijuurou doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know the contents of and Sousuke is in the kitchen cursing at something or someone - but the figure in the corner snorts softly and flicks the cat on the top of its head.

“Told you to stay off the table,” they say softly.  Seijuurou can’t figure out what they are but they’re not a spirit so, really, it’s not his problem if it’s the start of a new infestation of some kind.

His problem or not the figure leaves him unsettled and he sighs softly.

“Ready to go?” he asks.  Makoto looks over at him with a pout, obviously not ready to go, and the plates stacked on the counter clatter ominously.  Makoto startles and look at Haru.  Haru shrugs.

“I should get to work on this anyway,” Haru says.  “I’ll call you later.”

“Which means I’ll call you if I don’t hear from you in a few days.”  Haru shrugs again and starts to dig through the bag.  “Okay Haru.  I get the point.”  

Makoto steps over and hooks his elbow around Sousuke’s, kissing his cheek and leading the way to the door.  The sunlight streaming through the door sparkles as they leave.

“I wonder what trouble he’s brewing now,” Seijuurou mutters, the tinkling of the bell above the door echoing behind them.

“Oh I’m sure it’s nothing too bad.  I mean you know Haru.”

A crash shatters the air and Seijuurou pointedly walks away from the restaurant.

“Yep.  That’s why I was never here today and neither were you.”

“See,” Makoto coos as he slips his hand down to grab Seijuurou’s.  “This is why you’re my favorite.”


	14. OiKuro Treat14

Oikawa opened the door to Iwaizumi’s apartment, which was pretty par for the course in Tetsurou’s mind.  He wasn’t really sure why Oikawa even paid for his own apartment.  Tetsurou couldn’t remember a time that Oikawa wasn’t at Iwaizumi’s apartment when he stopped by.  He paused in the doorway and narrowed his eyes.  It was a little suspicious that Oikawa was here every single time Tetsurou stopped to visit and he was about to ask Oikawa what the hell was up with that when Iwaizumi poked his head out of his bedroom and grinned at Tetsurou.

“Glad you finally showed up,” Iwaizumi called out.  “Hurry up or we’ll be late and I am not going to be the one explaining to Akaashi or Yahaba why we’re late.  I would like to live to see tomorrow.”

Oikawa waved him inside and wandered away, as comfortable here as, presumably, in his own apartment.

Tetsurou left his coat and shoes by the door and was making his way to the bathroom to change when Oikawa popped out of the kitchen.

“Nice costume, by the way Tetsu.  I haven’t seen anything so scary since the last time I saw your face.”

Tetsurou rolled his eyes.  “Gee.  Thanks.”  He made it three steps away before he spun on his heel and scowled.  “Actually you know what?  No.  I haven’t even changed yet and you know it so fuck you very much.  Asshole,” he added as he turned back around and stalked to the bathroom.  Oikawa’s cackling was unfortunately not muffled by the bathroom door.  Though neither was Iwaizumi’s frustrated growl and the sound of something being thrown and thumping into something solid.  Oikawa’s face hopefully.

Tetsurou slipped into his costume and shoved his clothes into his bag.

He yanked open the bathroom door and nearly yelped at the monstrous face in front of him.  Oikawa tugged up his mask and pouted in Tetsurou’s direction.

“I have been told to, and I quote, ‘stop being such a childish jackass and apologize’ so here I am.”  Oikawa scrunched his face up.  “Sorry for making fun of your face.  It’s really not that horrible.”

Tetsurou stared at Oikawa for a moment and then shut off the bathroom light with a sigh.

“I suppose I accept the apology.”  He slipped past Oikawa and headed back to grab his shoes from near the door.

“And?”  Oikawa prompted.

“And what?”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“My face.”

“Uh,” Tetsurou glanced over his shoulder.  “Nice mask?”

Oikawa’s eyes widened comically and he yanked the mask back down with a growl.

“Forget it.  Your face is dumb and so are you.”

Oikawa stormed out of the apartment and Tetsurou was left with one shoe half on and the other hanging from his fingers.

“What the hell just happened?”  He glanced back down the hall in time to see Iwaizumi slap his palm against his forehead.

“My stupid best friend has a stupid crush on your stupid self.”  Iwaizumi waited until Tetsurou’s eyes widened in realization to continue.  “May you live your stupid lives together in stupid harmony and stop mooning over each other in my apartment.”

Tetsurou sucked in a surprised breath and shoved his feet into his shoes before taking off after Oikawa.

—

They were an hour and a half late to Akaashi and Yahaba’s party but when they walked in holding hands with matching blushes on their cheeks Akaashi just shook his head and handed Iwaizumi a handful of cash before wandering away.


	15. MatsuHana Treat15

Issei rolled over on Makki’s bed and held out his phone for Makki to see the costumes displayed on the screen.

“We should do a couples costume,” he declared.  “We’d totally rock it.”

“Like a group costume?” asked Makki distractedly.  He was in the middle of sorting through piles of old clothes he had dug out of his closet.  Apparently he was trying to find the perfect ugly fall sweater to give Oikawa.  It was a weird tradition of theirs that Issei had never really understood and never really expected to.  “I’d say go for it except Oikawa is already dead set on going as a zombie community pool lifeguard - weirdly specific I know but it’s Oikawa so, whatever.”  Makki glanced over his shoulder at Issei’s phone and grinned at him.

Issei grinned back and then turned the phone back towards himself and started scrolling through the options again.  He licked his lips nervously and caught his lower one between his teeth for a moment as his stomach twisted into knots.

“I was thinking more like just you and me doing a couples costume?”  He hated the way his voice rose at the end, turning it into a question.  But there it was.  Out in the open again.

Makki tilted his head as he contemplated a sweater and then tossed it onto his desk in the corner.

“We’re not a couple though,” Makki stated quietly. He shoved the rest of the sweaters into the box they came out of and then kicked the whole thing into the closet before twisting to look at Issei again.

“Well,” Issei drawled, “could we become one? Because I have a great idea for a costume and I’m in love with you.”

He pulled the costumes up on his phone again and tossed it at Makki and it was only years of practice that had Makki catching it without hesitation.  Makki stared at him, face turning a delicate shade of pink as Issei’s words sank in.  Issei tilted his head questioningly and shrugged, eyes looking at his phone meaningfully.

Makki finally looked down at the phone and snorted before throwing it back at Issei.

“I’m not dressing up as a spoon and fork for Halloween just so you can use the ‘are you forking me’ pun.  Pick a better couples costume to show how madly, deeply, passionately in love we are.”  Makki wiggled his eyebrows at Issei and scooted over to prop his chin on the bed.

Issei laughed and rolled onto his stomach so that their noses were inches apart.

“Well, Takahiro my love.  I don’t know that either of us have the hips to pull off Morticia Addams so I don’t know that we’ll ever find a couples costume to properly show that.”

Makki huffed at him.  “Dude you could so pull off Morticia’s dress.  We’re doing it.”


	16. OiDaiTsukki Trickytreat1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only standalone trick. All the others after this connect together.

Kei peered down his nose at the sight in front of him, lip curled and face blank.

“I thought vampires were supposed to burst into flames when they get staked,” he said conversationally.  “What kind of defective vampire are you?”

The vampire in question scoffed at him and grabbed at their chest, fingers probing the wound around the wooden stake carefully.

“What kind of defective vampire hunter are  _you_ ,” the vampire shot back.  They grabbed the stake and yanked it right back out of their chest, barely even wincing.  “To think that that silly legend could actually kill me?  Do they not even teach you to do proper research anymore?  Hunters these days,” the vampire scoffed.

They met Kei’s eyes, leaned in close, and smiled.  It was the last thing Kei saw before slipping into darkness.

—

“How many times have I told you that you can’t just-  oh my-”  A growl brings Kei out of his slumber and he blinks up at the high ceiling of the room blearily a few times before realizing that the world was blurry because he wasn’t wearing his glasses.  A slow search of his immediate surroundings found them on the floor near his head.  Once the world was a little clearer he struggled to his feet and carefully shook out his arms and legs; being enthralled by a vampire was never an easy thing to work out of one’s system.  But it was worth it in the end.

His goal had never been to kill the vampire.  Something that would become apparent soon he was sure.

He shuffled out of the room and followed the growls and raised voices towards a brightly lit room: the library if he remembered correctly.

“Seriously Tooru.  You can’t just keep dragging strays in and expecting me to fix them up.”  Something clatters to the floor.  “Especially since it’s more like I have to fix their memories and send them on their way.”

“I’m sorry Daichi.  But to be fair he started it.”

Kei peered around the doorway and watched the two men stare at each other before the dark haired one threw his arms up in frustration.  The vampire Kei had staked - Tooru - huffed and turned away to glare at the fireplace.

Kei stepped into the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest.

“To be fair,” he said, “he is right.  I did start it.”

They both spun on their heels and stared at him in surprise.

“You shouldn’t be awake yet,” Tooru said in confusion.  “You should be out for at least another few hours.”

“Hello Daichi,” Kei said softly.

“Oh.  Shit,” Daichi replied.


	17. NoyaMatsu Treat1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything after this is all one connected au/trick.
> 
> Enjoy! :D

The house is quiet looking, innocent despite looming from shadows and swirling fog.  The single light high in the attic gives off an almost cozy glow, even though it also sends a shiver of dread straight down his spine.  He opens his phone and checks the map one last time.  He’s in the right place.

 _End of the line_ , his mind helpfully supplies.  His eyes dart around to all the darkened windows, a few have sheets of wood behind sharp shards of broken glass.  A curtain shifts in another window.  But when his eyes snap to the movement all he sees is a dark window and fog.  Fog that begins to part in wispy motions almost as if someone is striding away from the window straight towards him.  Each willowy puff of fog that slides open for phantom footsteps has his eyes widening and his throat drying and clenching shut in fear.

Eight steps away.

Five steps.

Four.

Three.

Two.

The door opens with a screech of rusted hinges and he had never imagined rusted hinges would sound so much like screams of terror.

Or maybe he screamed a little.  He’s not sure.  Not that it matters one way or the other.  Not all the way out here.

Muted light filters onto a rickety porch that somehow looks both lovingly worn in and drastically uncared for.

“Yuu?  Nishinoya Yuu?”

He jerks out of whatever weird place his mind is in and hurries towards that meager light.  He tries to tell himself that he doesn’t scurry towards it like a little rat fleeing to safety.  But he kind of does.

“That’s me,” he says, voice harsh and stuck in his throat.  Fear, it seems, is a rather nasty little thief that likes to steal things from you like your voice and your pride.

“And you’re still good with the requests of the ad?”

He should probably turn on his heel and go back to his apartment, back to the bright lights of the city.  There are people there who will miss him, he knows this objectively.  He glances over his shoulder.  The lights are so far away here, barely a twinkle through the fog, that they might as well be on another planet.  He turns back and meets the brown eyes peering curiously at him.  There’s something in them that comforts him even as it tickles at his fight or flight response.  A wonderful contradiction just like everything else about this night, this place.  

He probably won’t make it through the night.  But there’s never a guarantee he’ll wake up tomorrow no matter what his choices throughout the day.

Yuu powers off his phone and hands it over with a wry smile.

“I’m all yours.”

The glint of white teeth when the man grins makes the hair on Yuu’s arms stand up.

“Azumane,” the man whispers.  “Call me Asahi.”

He beckons Yuu into the dim light and Yuu follows.

And follows.

And follows.

And follows.

He follows Asahi into eternities and damnation spent on the razor’s edge, high in that bright little attic.

 

* * *

_prompt: A killer places an advertisement for a willing victim and finds one._


	18. AsaDai Trick2

There’s never anything quite like the taste in the air when the attic light finally goes out.  The snap of the switch flipping to off echoes through the house, even down to the dusty old basement where he spends his time categorizing and shelving and inspecting his array of jars housed in the labyrinth that seems to stretch out forever into the darkness.

Or maybe he’s just become attuned to the way the entire house seems to hold its breath when the light goes out and the darkness settles over it.  The anticipation of another piece of time slipping into its proper place in the world once again.  They have eternity at the tip of their fingers.  So long as they keep it all properly organized and cataloged and documented.

Daichi waits until he hears Asahi’s familiar, weary steps through the dining room into the kitchen before heading upstairs.  He straightens a slightly askew jar and watches the murky light shift and shimmer in it before it settles and he slips out of the basement with a smile on his face.

He had been told once, eons ago it seems, that he was damned.  It wasn’t the only time he’s heard those words.  But it had been the first time and he had felt them cut him to his bones.  Then Asahi had wrapped his fingers around Daichi’s wrist and flashed him a grin that made the hair on Daichi’s arms stand on end.  Daichi figured that so long as Asahi was willing to let him stay then he wouldn’t really mind being damned all that much in the end.  He’d walk into those flames with his head held high.

The flames hadn’t come yet.

He hops onto the counter next to the sink and taps his heels against the cabinet, watching in the dim light that manages to make it through the fog pressing at the windows as Asahi washes his hands carefully, methodically scrubbing between each finger and under each nail.  He’s never the most talkative sort, even with Daichi who has been by his side nearly forever, but something about this quiet has Daichi shifting nervously and listening cautiously to the shift of the house settling around them.

The fog presses faces against the window and wet little tendrils of fingers scrabble to get in.

Something shifts high above them, a shuffling thump that seems to echo through to the very foundation of the house.  Daichi’s heels still.  He tilts his head and slowly drags his gaze from Asahi’s hands up to his face.  The shadows and darkness do a wonderful job of obscuring Asahi’s features from Daichi’s searching gaze.  Daichi huffs loudly and the fog shifts, moonlight seeping in through the window.

There are heavy footsteps on the stairs from the attic to the second level of the house.

“Asahi.  What did you do?”   Daichi isn’t upset.  He trusts Asahi with his life and his death.  He’s just curious.  Asahi taps his fingers against the counter in a steady rhythm as the heavy steps shuffle towards the stairs to the main floor.

Slow thuds sound from the stairs just outside the kitchen doorway.

“Asahi?”

Seven more stairs and whatever it is will be in the doorway.

Five.

Asahi turns his head and his dark brown eyes catch Daichi’s gaze and he tenses at the glint there.

Three.

Two.

“I did what I always do, Daichi.”   Daichi’s head snaps to the doorway as the shadows shift and twitch and a slim figure shuffles into view.  “And a little more.”

* * *

_prompt: A basement contains jars filled with unusual specimens._


	19. TanaKen Trick3

Ryuu traces the lines that well up under Kenma’s skin with his fingertip.  Kenma shivers a little at the contact but otherwise doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink or tilt his head in Ryuu’s direction.  Ryuu contemplates the swooping lines and harsh angles of the marks as Kenma continues to ignore him, focused on the books opened on the table in front of him.

“You know,” Ryuu says with a grin, “you have to do some really nasty things to get marks like that.”

Kenma flips the page of the nearest book and scrunches his face up at what he reads.

“Of course I know.  I’m the one with the marks after all,” he finally says.

Ryuu reaches over and presses his fingertip into the sharp corner of the mark on Kenma’s collarbone.  “Who was this?”

“A friend from school, he had red hair and eyes that shone like the sun.”  Ryuu’s fingernail digs into the mark that curves gently over Kenma’s heart.  “My best friend.  Stuck to me like my shadow even when I didn’t need him to.”  Ryuu drags his fingers down to the mark just above Kenma’s navel.  “My first kiss.  Had constellations painted on his cheeks.”

Ryuu’s fingers dance and drag across Kenma’s skin and Kenma answers.

The curve along his shoulder.  “My first love.”

The sharp angle inside his elbow.  “My best friend’s crush.”

The tally marks down his spine.  “My crush’s best friend.”

Over and over.  Each curve and curl and slash and slice.  Kenma answers them all in his quiet voice.

Ryuu’s fingers slide over the bare skin of Kenma’s shoulder blade and then stop.  He slides them back, feels the skin just starting to heat up and swell, and his breath catches.

“And this?”

Kenma peers back at Ryuu over his shoulder, eyes glinting in the candlelight.  He feels a burning in chest, lungs twisting and ribs collapsing under the weight of the air he’s gasping to get in.

Kenma’s smile is sharper than the blade Ryuu keeps tucked in his boot and ten times as deadly.

“It’s you.”


	20. YakuNoya Trickytreat (Trick4)

Morisuke stops in the doorway and stares at the object sitting on the counter with a healthy mix of fear and trepidation.  It’s a random object sitting on Kuroo and Noya’s kitchen counter.  He’d have to be an idiot not to treat it with caution.

“Oh hey what’s this?”  Suga picks up the object without a care in the world.  It doesn’t explode in his hand though Morisuke isn’t sure if that’s because it’s not actually dangerous or because it is dangerous but Suga is just that special that dangerous things turn into puppies frolicking in the sun when he touches them.

“It’s our pumpkin,” Noya answers.  In his wariness of the foreign object on the counter Morisuke had forgotten that his boyfriend was crawling around on the floor digging something out of the bottom cabinets.  He has a moment to admire the way the extra large sweater that Noya stole from him (that he had stolen from Kuroo who had stolen it from someone, possibly Takanobu, last week) hangs off of Noya and shows off the leggings and tank top he’s wearing underneath before Noya pops back out of the cabinet with a triumphant shout.

“That is not a pumpkin,” Morisuke feels compelled to note.  “That is some sort of mutant… thing.  It looks like a pumpkin, a rock, and a volleyball had an orgy and that was the result.”

“Is it really an orgy if there are only three?  Isn’t that more of, you know, a threesome?”

“I didn’t ask you Kuroo.”

“Yeah, well, I’m answering anyway.”  Kuroo braces himself in the doorway behind Morisuke and pushes him into the kitchen with some weird hip thrust that makes Morisuke cringe.  He is not about that from Kuroo thanks very much.  “And it is totally a pumpkin.  See.  Orange and roundish and it has the stem and we’re gonna carve it and put it in the window to keep away evil spirits.”

Noya grimaces.  “Well it’s a little late for the evil spirits.  I mean Suga’s already here,” he adds in what Morisuke thinks is supposed to be a kind of stage whisper but isn’t much quieter than his normal tone.

“Yep,” Suga says cheerfully.  “And I’m gonna slurp your souls out of your bodies with a straw like a milkshake.”

Morisuke takes a cautious step back and bumps into Kuroo who wraps his arm around Morisuke’s chest.

“Suga.  That was a little creepy.”  Kuroo’s arm is hot against Morisuke’s chest, even through his sweater, and he squirms a little.  “You can let me go, Kuroo.”

“Oh, it’s about to get creepier,” Suga declares, smile sharpening into something that turns Morisuke’s blood to ice.

Morisuke thinks he hears Noya say something about not having much of a soul anymore but it’s hard to be sure when Kuroo’s breath is hot on his cheek as he hisses “Run,” and spins to shove Morisuke towards the door.

He stumbles out of the apartment into a bank of fog and goes sprawling to the pavement.  He looks back to see what he tripped over and can barely make out the figure seated just outside the apartment door.  A glint of a toothy smile and curls of brown hair escaping a messy bun register as Azumane somewhere in his mind and then Morisuke bolts into the fog.

 

* * *

_prompt: pumpkin/pumpkin carving_


	21. AsaNoyaDai Trick5

The funny thing about time is that, well, it’s all rather subjective if you can get down into the nitty gritty pieces of it.

They’ve been sitting here staring at each other for an eternity.

They’ve been sitting here staring at each other for three minutes.

Subjective.

Asahi drags his fingers along the worn bench he’s sitting on and stares up at the sky.  Or at least in the direction of the sky.  The fog is pressing in on them, a thick blanket of gray; no swirling or twisting or creeping tendrils today.  Somewhere in his mind Asahi is listening to the steady tick-tock of the old grandfather clock in his house.  It feels so far away from him and he hates the feeling.  This is why he doesn’t leave the house.

Except that Suga had asked and if there’s one thing that Asahi has always had trouble saying no to it’s Suga.  Despite all the time he’s had to practice saying it.  Suga brushes through the word - and the world but that’s an entirely different train of thought Asahi doesn’t really ride on if he can help it -  like it has even less substance than the fog and drags Asahi into everything.  (Asahi only complains marginally because he was the one to drag Suga first, to wrap strong fingers around Suga’s pale wrist and pull him into damnation and hellfire.)

A cackle far away sparks down his spine like lightning and a moment later the fog parts like a curtain.  Noya weaves his way through the abandoned park - abandoned yet full of life - towards the bench.

“He didn’t take long to adjust,” Daichi comments as Noya springs to stand on a swing.  His fingers are loose against the chains and they make an eerie creak as he starts to swing back and forth.

Asahi had explained the way time worked to Daichi forever ago.  How it was grains of salt and sand whipping endlessly through forever.  A foreign concept that warped your mind and held you captive.

Daichi still wears a watch and insists on keeping the grandfather clock in Asahi’s house, even if they don’t quite work right.  But Asahi supposes that none of them quite work right anymore.  Even the eerie creak of Noya’s swing isn’t quite right.  It soothes as easily as it riles and Asahi is lost in the fog even though he’s at home there and Daichi is a solid anchor even though he’s battered like a leaf in a storm.

The fog shifts and starts to trickle upwards like sand through an hour glass.  Asahi can hear the steady tock-tick of the grandfather clock in his house.

“Time to go home I think,” Daichi murmurs, words clear as the night sky in Asahi’s ear.

Asahi throws his head back and laughs into the fog.  It’s always time to go back and there’s never enough time in the world and time is such a broken little thing that encompasses eons and lightyears yet barely fills a gritty little grain of sand to the brim.  His grin is sharp when Noya joins them; he’s always liked playing with the nitty gritty pieces of life after all.  Even when he has to get his hands a little bloody to do it.

 

* * *

_prompt: the grandfather clock starts running backwards_


	22. MatsuHanaIwaOi Trick6

Tooru looks around the smoke filled room and shakes his head sadly as it starts to clear.  Hajime lets out a little snort but otherwise stays silent as they watch Issei and Takahiro poke through the remains of what was once their biggest cauldron and smallest workroom.

Tooru nudges a curved piece of cauldron towards the two witches with his boot - glad he wore his sturdier, less fashionable pair today - and winces sympathetically at the sound of something crashing to the ground on the other side of the room.  The place is a mess.  Broken bottles that had lined the walls now covered the floor, books torn to shreds, liquids and semi-liquids all mixing and globbing together.

Issei and Takahiro are deep in conversation, voices a dull white noise, and barely even seem to notice the destruction and chaos around them.  Tooru meets Hajime’s eyes and gestures to the room.  Hajime shrugs and picks his way towards the windows.  There’s a blanket of fog moving towards them that has him on edge, apparently, and he’s eying it with caution.

Tooru turns back to the disaster spread out in front of him.  There’s almost a pattern to it.  He can feel it just outside of his grasp as he steps closer and studies it.  There’s also more of a mess here than he would have thought possible, given the size of the room and the amount of stuff that  _should_ have been able to fit in it.  Issei and Takahiro’s voices swell, a wave of sound that presses at Tooru’s mind, battling with the crackle of broken glass underfoot and the steady ticking of the clock on the far wall - one of the few things to avoid total destruction.

It’s a lost cause, Tooru decides and he shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

“You two are, without a doubt, the worst witches I’ve ever met,” Tooru announces airily.  They turn slowly to look at him, necks twisting almost unnaturally as they do so, and he shivers at the blankness in their eyes.  Bright like a light bulb but no deeper than water spilled on a counter top.

The window near Hajime - the only one not broken Tooru realizes with a start - rattles.  The fog is pressing in against it, oppressive and gray.  Tooru glances at the other windows, at the way the fog hangs just outside the broken panes of glass and shattered wooden frames like it’s waiting for permission to enter, and then looks back to Issei and Takahiro questioningly.

Their eyes are no longer blank.

Tooru almost wishes they were.

Issei laughs a bit unkindly.  Takahiro raises his brows and smirks.

“Oh, dear Tooru,” Takahiro says.  “We’re not witches at all.”

“We’re so much worse than that,” Issei agrees.

“Hajime?”  Tooru’s eyes are darting from Issei and Takahiro to Hajime and back, unable to settle on any one of them for long.  Hajime looks a little sad.  Takahiro and Issei look gleeful and not quite themselves.  They look sharper.  Brighter.  Tooru shivers.  “Hajime?” he tries again.

“I tried to tell you it was a bad idea,” Hajime says apologetically.  “But you never listen.  I’m sorry, Tooru.  It’s out of our hands now.  We’re out of time.”

The clock stops ticking.

The fog presses in.

 

* * *

_prompt: double double toil and trouble_


	23. NagiSuga Trick7

Nagisa watches the old oak tree, bare branches swaying in the foggy night.  There’s a sense of something in the air, though he can’t quite put his finger on what exactly it is.  He heads for the tree, slipping almost silently through the damp grass and tall stones, humming softly to himself.  The fog parts for him, twisting and swirling away with each step.

“Come out, come out.  Wherever you are,” he singsongs as he reaches the tree.  The bark is rough under his fingers.  He circles it and lets his fingers drag along the bark.  There’s a house not far away but he’s not interested in that.  The house and whoever is in it isn’t what drew him here.  That much he knows for certain.

Nagisa circles the tree.  Three times.  Four.  Five.  Seven.

The ninth turn reveals a figure standing a few feet away, face shrouded in fog and shadows.

“Can I help you?”

Silvery gray hair shines in the moonlight, though Nagisa doesn’t think the other man is more than a year or two older than him.  Even with the fact that neither of them are really counting in human years anymore.  He knows that as surely as he knows that this is who he’s been searching for.

Nagisa smiles brightly and laughs.  His laughter doesn’t travel they way it should, not through this fog, yet somewhere in the distance a light goes on in the house like someone heard him anyway.  He can hear a door creak open, hear solid footsteps across an old rickety porch, and then he focuses in on the figure in front of him.

“I think it’s time you and I have a little talk mister,” Nagisa scolds; words playful, tone serious.

“I didn’t expect them to send out their sunshine child after me.”  The man grins back at Nagisa, teeth sharp and eyes sparkling through the shadows across his face.

“What can I say, Sugawara.”  The eyes narrow just the slightest and his grin grows.  “Like calls to like.  Who else are they supposed to send after you but one of your own?”

“Well anyone less likely to know exactly how to kill me for good would be preferable.”  The fog shifts around them, weaving between Nagisa’s feet and curling around his ankles.

“Oh, please.”  He’s speaking to Sugawara.  And the fog.  And the shadows.  And whatever else might be listening in the night.  He digs his fingers into the trunk of the old tree and feels his smile turn wild.  “I never said I was going to kill you.  Not yet anyway.”  A howl rips through the night and Nagisa gets the pleasure of seeing Sugawara look almost worried in the moment before the fog fills the gap between them.  “After all you should always work up a good appetite before your meals,” he growls into the night as Sugawara’s presence slips away.

 

* * *

_prompt: old trees in the moonlight_


	24. TeruSuga Trick8

“You have a soul, right?”

Yuuji tenses in surprise, bowl of fruit in his hands hitting the floor with a crash.

“I would ask how you got in here, y’know past all the traps and spells and Hikaru.  But I know better.”

Suga hops up onto the counter with a hum.  “I love Hikaru.”

“Hikaru is supposed to be a guardian of light who keeps weird little creepy crawly things out of my place.”

“He’s a sweetheart.”

“For - ugh.  What do you want Suga?”

“I have a dilemma.”

Yuuji groans.  Whenever Suga comes to him with a dilemma it means things like paperwork and hiding bodies and cleaning blood out of his hair.  He’s already resigned himself to dealing with Suga for the foreseeable future.  Suga’s a bit like glitter: once he’s in your home it’s nearly impossible to actually get rid of him.

—

Suga cackles wildly into the foggy night.  Yuuji sighs and slumps against the cold stone wall.

This was not the reason he kept his soul.  This was not the reason he had stood against temptation and held strong against everything and all that stuff.

The fog coils around him, just as cold and damp as the wall behind him and the ice in his veins right now, and he slides to the ground.

This was never supposed to happen to him.  But he supposes this is what he gets for tangling with the likes of Sugawara for the better part of a lifetime.

Yuuji must make a distressed noise of some kind because Suga is back at his side in an instant.

“Oh,” Suga says softly when he sees the state Yuuji’s in, “this isn’t good.”


	25. AsaTanaNoya Trick9

Asahi frowns down at his tables and Yuu thinks that the look is wrong on his face.  Asahi’s face is made to be serious, sure, but not frowning.  Tight with concentration, maybe, but not this fear and worry.  Yuu understands it.  He really does: Asahi’s caught between two people, fingers trailing through the gritty bits of both of them, and for the first time in a very very long time he’s afraid he might not have time properly in his grasp.

Suga, for his part, doesn’t seem worried.  But Yuu figures he doesn’t know him well enough to judge that for certain.

Yuu doesn’t know how Asahi knows either person laid out on his tables.  Or if he knows them at all.

He only knows that time has slowed to a crawl that makes him want to rip his skin off and each second that drags by is like salt ground into an open wound.  Daichi hovers in the corner.  He usually doesn’t observe Asahi at work and that fact alone is enough to set Yuu on edge in the exact opposite way Daichi’s presence normally does.

Time passes.  Even Asahi can’t stop that.  And sometimes he can’t catch everything he needs to put things back together.

Fog presses against the window high in the attic.  Yuu wanders the dark halls of the house.  Soft footfalls echoing sharply through empty rooms.

Daichi and Asahi are high above him, twisting and twining and tweaking things that were never supposed to be touched.

—

The figure on the left shudders back into time with a choked off grunt.  Suga’s eyes light up and that razor sharp grin of his flickers to life on his face.  He watches carefully as eyes flutter and flicker in confusion until they land on him.

“Am I a soulless minion of yours now?”  The voice is gravel in Yuu’s head, scraping and salting wounds, and he feels an overwhelming sense of loss sweep over him, drowning him in a foggy haze.

“That’s still to be determined,” Suga answers eventually.

—

Asahi collapses against Daichi’s side with a quiet groan.  Yuu tilts his head and watches, feet tapping against the cabinets under the counter he’s been sitting on while watching Daichi prepare his newest collection of jars.

“Next time Kenma has a change of heart, ask him to do it before everything shatters.”

“No promises,” Daichi murmurs.  “You know how he is.”

The words are words and they make sense.  Just not in the order they’re in.  But Yuu figures maybe he just hasn’t been with Asahi long enough to understand things.  Even if Asahi says time is funny and not quite right, Yuu always feels like he’s half a step behind Asahi.  Lagging like a clap of thunder chasing after lightning.

—

It’s the lightning that wakes him.

His eyes snap open and there’s a weight on his chest that shouldn’t be there.  It’s not comfortable, it presses against his ribs and slips between them to curl around his lungs.

A grin flashes down at him and the lightning strikes again.

It’s quiet and it makes him shiver.  There’s no thunder.  Bright eyes watch him and watch him and watch him.  A pair in the corner observe carefully.  A pair nearby study closely.  But the pair looming over him watch with a wary curiosity, bright in the foggy gloom.

Watching, watching, watching.  All lighting and no thunder.

The fog pressing in leaves everything sounding a bit dull and muffled around him, like a wet blanket covering his senses.

“Noya,” the voice that accompanies those studying eyes is chiding.  Stern yet kind.  “Let him breathe.”

The weight disappears from his chest.  He still can’t breathe but the weight is gone.

Lightning rips through him again.

This time thunder rumbles in his bones and those curious eyes appear at his side.

He comes back to himself, mind catching like a grain of sand between cogs for a few long moments, and then it’s all there.

Ryuu jolts.  Lightning shattering him and knitting him back together.


	26. DaiTana Trick10

“There is,” Daichi explains, “a saying about playing with fire.”  

Ryuu looks over at him and Daichi suppresses a shiver; Ryuu’s still as death except for the way his fingers won’t stop moving.  Restlessly playing with the spines of the books on the library shelves, tapping out a rhythm on the dusty wood, twitching with badly contained energy even when he splays them flat on an empty shelf.

“Oh?” asks Ryuu faintly, eyes glazed and pointed past Daichi’s shoulder towards the window.

“Yeah.  It’s a dangerous thing.  It’s all about taking foolish risks and the unpredictability of fire.  The flames coming to life and having minds of their own.  Never being able to fully handle it, only contain it and reduce the collateral damage of it.”  Ryuu tilts his head, eyes still distant.  “But,” he waits for Ryuu’s eyes to flicker to him and focus before he continues.  “The truly dangerous thing isn’t playing with fire.  It’s playing with time.  You always know to expected the unexpected when you play with something known to be unpredictable.  But what happens when you take something as strict and predictable and reliable as time and break it?”

Ryuu’s whole body spasms and he eyes the fog pressing in against the windows warily.

“What happens when you dip your fingers into the sands of time and bring them back with a few grains stuck to them?”

They can hear the unusual tick-tock-tack of the grandfather clock on the first floor echoing through the empty house.

“What happens when everything you know and trust about the passing of time, about the reliability of death and life and the steady tick tick ticking of the clock starts to run wild?”

Daichi draws his fingers along the window, fog chasing after his fingertips like ghostly waves in a puddle of water, and Ryuu drops his gaze to the empty bookshelf.  His hand drops away and he stares at the clean spot in the dust, proof he was here.  Proof he was, well, if not alive that he was at least still something.

“What happens,” Daichi asks softly, voice distant, “when you stop listening to all the people who tell you that you can’t and you shouldn’t and it’s just not right?  When you start toeing the line between black and white and night and day and life and death and past and present and future and smudging it all into greys and what ifs and why nots?”  Daichi taps his fingers against the glass and Ryuu shudders at the hollow sound that echoes through the room.  “What do you really get then?”

“Me,” Asahi says from the doorway.  Ryuu’s nerves go haywire and he twitches, bones skittering in his skin jarringly as he twists to look over his shoulder.  The fog presses at the windows, a pulsing heartbeat of greys.  Shadows playfully war with the light around the room, darkness a frightening blanket calming his lightning-struck nerves.  Yuu skirts past Asahi and hops onto the table in the middle of room.  “Us.”

“You get more time,” says Ryuu, voice like rusted gears churning back to life for the first time since he jolted back into being on that table high in the attic.

* * *

 

 

_I’ve got blood on my hands and you’re all out of time_   
_in a city of stories can you spot the lie_   
_if I spin you a tale will you cross the line_   
_will you follow it blindly or will you turn the tides_   
_fingers dripping in starlight, in darkness, in pride_   
_your blood’s on my hands and we’re playing with time_


End file.
